


a nice customer

by nise_kazura



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Cum Inflation, Dehumanization, Drugs, M/M, Mild Gore, Monsterfucking, Other, Sex Slavery, Size Difference, Tentacles, Vagina Dentata, Whump, belly bulge, bitey pussy, intersex monster, or at least i think its mild, the francis/will is the focus of this fic tho the hannigram is still there too, the vagina has teeth ok i dunno how to tag it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25762060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nise_kazura/pseuds/nise_kazura
Summary: Welcome to Dr. Lecter’s Pet Café!When entering the café please keep in mind:1. Help out your local café owner: don’t encourage bad behavior! Pets are meant to provide service. If one approaches you with its own needs without considering yours, please do not give it attention.2. Do not interfere with the incense. It keeps the pets calm. Without it, they may grow confused or agitated.3. Our beloved pets have been trained for companionship. They love to please, so don’t be afraid to play with them how you like. Dr. Lecter is a licensed and experienced pet doctor.4. That being said, please do not maime, permanently damage, or kill any pets during your play. You will be charged a fine and banned from the café.5. Please allow some time for clean-up between each session. Also, if you wear shoes, kindly leave them by the door.
Relationships: Francis Dolarhyde/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	a nice customer

**Author's Note:**

> me: ok so think like  
> cat café  
> but humans  
> w monster customers  
> and fucking  
> friend: so like...a brothel?  
> me, crying: nO a PET CAFE, just with sEX, its CUTE okay?!!!!!  
> the fic:

Pet cafés are pricey. They’re enjoyable for the pet companionship that is offered, but the drinks are often over-priced and bland. It’s more of a novelty thing than anything else, some would say.

But Dr. Lecter’s establishment is known for its high quality. High quality foods, high quality beverages, and a carefully selected set of pets with different temperaments, meant to cater to a wide range of customers with different tastes. Customer satisfaction guaranteed. Dr. Lecter offers refunds if you end your session less than satisfied (the only pet café owner that is known to do so), but that offer is rumored to have never been necessary. 

He’d had his doubts at first, but after experiencing it for himself, he’s become a regular at Dr. Lecter’s. 

He has a number of different names, most of which he doesn’t like, because his true name can’t be pronounced in tongues. He knows what others call him behind his back, just as he knows that they know he prefers the Great Red Dragon. For most, if he catches them referring to him in any other manner, it would spell pain and certain death. But Dr. Lecter is special, a trusted friend, so he allows it when Dr. Lecter simply greets him with a smile and a warm “Francis. It’s good to see you again.”

The door’s bell tinkles as Francis pushes it open. He has to dip his head, crouching uncomfortably to fit through the doorway, but once inside, the ceilings are tall. Another thing he likes about the café. 

“Dr. Lecter,” he growls in greeting, throat grinding, still uncomfortable with vocalizing at a frequency that is audible to anthropomorphic creatures like Dr. Lecter.

The lighting is low and golden, the air hazy with smoke. The scent is slightly sweet, slightly musky. Francis has gotten used to it by now—standard practice for pet cafés. There are a few other customers there, but not too many—Dr. Lecter likes to reserve space, so you have to call to make an appointment ahead of time. Another peculiarity and perk of his establishment.

There’s another regular there, a creature named Tobias. Francis recognizes him, but they’ve never spoken. (Not many people deign to speak to Francis.) He frowns at the way Tobias allows a pet to approach him and beg at his feet. The first rule of Dr. Lecter’s Pet Emporium is to discourage such shameful behavior. The pet licks at Tobias, whining pitifully as Tobias clenches his hand on its head. Its need is palpable, olfactorily detectable. Francis curls his lip in disgust. There are customers, of course, who prefer the fawning type, the kind of pet that is soft all over and obedient, that adores anyone who touches them just right. Francis is not that kind of beast. 

Dr. Lecter follows Francis’s gaze and the muscles around his eyes tighten.

“Ah, yes. Franklyn has been growing unruly of late,” he remarks. “But I have allowed it, since I have already arranged for Mr. Budge to adopt him permanently into his home.”

The pet begins to sob, wriggling pathetically on its back with its legs spread. No other pet that Francis has ever seen at Dr. Lecter’s would dare be so blatant about its neediness. But Tobias seems to like it, laughing openly, encouraging the behavior for the pleasure of denying it to the poor thing. Francis is surprised that Dr. Lecter lets them behave in such a way out in the open, in the middle of the café. But the other patrons are occupied with their own pet companions and don’t seem to mind the display.

Just as Tobias has particular tastes, so does Francis. And Dr. Lecter prides himself in being to cater to each individual’s needs. So when Dr. Lecter had left Francis a polite voicemail, informing him of a new acquisition that is ready to be introduced, Francis immediately booked an appointment.

The pet, which Dr. Lecter brought out in chains, doesn’t look like much, in Francis’s opinion. But then again, he isn’t sure what is considered attractive for humans. The appeal of the human aesthetic isn’t physical. Regardless of morphology, it is their helplessness that draws the better species towards them. Their reduced mental faculties, which make them weak and stupid, have ironically saved them from ruin. Their impotence endears them to their betters.

“It’s name is Will,” Dr. Lecter tells him. Francis tilts his head to get a better look. It stares up at him in defiance, sweating finely and trembling in its chains, a filtered mask secured over its face. 

“Strange name for a human,” he remarks.

Dr. Lecter runs a gentle hand through its curls, and it jerks its head away from the touch, muscles tensing under the delicate skin. Such vulnerable creatures, humans. What use is skin if it can’t protect itself from anything? Better to just peel it off.

“I am rather fond of this one,” Dr. Lecter admits. “I’m not sure if it was sentimentality or cruelty that led me to naming it after something it doesn’t truly have, ruled by basic instinct as its kind is.”

The chains rattle as the pet shakes. Whether it is fear or adrenaline, Francis isn’t sure. Its eyes are wide, panicked. The poor thing doesn’t realize that it is safer here than it will ever be outside. But Francis will teach it to know its place. Then, maybe, it won’t get hurt by its own helplessness. A firm hand is always needed, when training pets.

“They are strange creatures, aren’t they?” Dr. Lecter remarks. “It’s rather fascinating that evolution managed to produce such fantastically defenseless animals. It would be a mercy to let them all perish. And yet…I find myself feeling a degree of affection for them. I want to help them. This one, in particular, represents everything that went wrong with its species.”

Dr. Lecter grips the pet by its chin and lifts its face. Francis can see the way its jaw bulges and neck strains, heaving against Dr. Lecter’s greater strength. Incubi like Dr. Lecter have always been deceptively strong for their size.

“It is fearful. Much more fearful than any other pet I’ve trained. And yet it resists its own evolutionary instincts, out of sheer ignorance. I will miss its resistance, I think, once it is broken in. Perhaps that’s why I named it Will. It’s the only way I can give it what it wants, so badly.”

Francis enjoys his time at Dr. Lecter’s Pet Emporium, but he has no affection for the pets themselves. He doesn’t understand Dr. Lecter’s fascination with them. But he doesn’t need to feel affection for them to use their services. It is a mutually beneficial relationship: he likes to subdue, force submission. The pets require training. Francis pays a pretty penny to have the privilege of being able to provide that. Dr. Lecter is completely capable of training his pets on his own, of course, but Francis doesn’t like them trained. Dr. Lecter is gracious enough to make an exception for him.

Dr. Lecter isn’t bothered by Francis’s lack of response. He understands that Francis dislikes speaking.

“Shall we begin?”

Francis nods.

With a snick, Dr. Lecter pulls the mask free. The pet doesn’t move, lips pursed tight. Francis takes a moment to study its face. It’s rather flat, like most humans’, but its eyes are startling under the mess of curls that shadow them. After a short pause, Francis realizes it’s holding its breath—it doesn’t want to breathe in the incense.

How curious.

Francis wraps one large, clawed hand around its ribcage and squeezes. It wheezes and gasps out in pain, chains jangling, feet scrabbling midair, its toes barely brushing the ground.

The second it inhales its eyes blacken, its muscles go trembly-sweet and loose. It melts into his hold and Francis can smell its arousal. The incense is working, and since this is its first exposure, it hasn’t built up tolerance. 

It’s a wriggly thing, kicking and fighting and squirming in his grip. It doesn’t seem to be bothered by the way its bare skin scrapes harshly against Francis’s scales. Already, it is pink and flushed. Francis can smell it: fresh, live blood. 

Why does it struggle? It is chained. Even if it breaks free, it cannot escape its fate. It is as though it thinks that it must struggle just to prove to itself that it still can. But to what end?

Dr. Lecter steps closer, running a hand between its legs.

“Very responsive,” he murmurs with approval. The pet kicks out again, recoiling from the touch and murmuring _no—stop—_

Dr. Lecter grips it by the chin so he can get a better look at its dilated pupils. With his other hand he presses a palm to its forehead, brushing back its curls and tutting at the way it tries to pull away. Then he presses his lips to its lips, gently prying them open so he can feed it his saliva. Help it calm, relax. It will need it.

“There, there. Shhh. It’s all right, little one.”

Francis is getting restless and excited. Their society is a polite one. It has to be, in order to accommodate all the different creatures that coexist within it. But politeness leaves no room for the Dragon’s true glory. Francis can only allow himself to Become in short bursts. The pets are merely instruments to help him along, sycophants meant to fall before his power. They will be better for it, having had the privilege of witnessing the Dragon in all of his brief magnificence.

Dr. Lecter steps aside, mouth red and slick from being pressed against the pet’s. The pet is still banging its fists futilely against Francis’s grip, but its head lolls from side to side, heavy and loose on its neck. It whimpers, trying to twist away as Francis clutches it in one hand. Francis can feel it when the head of his second cock emerges from its sheath, right below the first, and the pet’s eyes widen when it catches sight of it. It lets out a noise of distress, a groan of effort as it renews its struggle. Francis tightens his grip enough to feel its bones creak, enough to know that it will bruise all over. 

“No—no, no, no—” 

It isn’t completely cognizant, drool dripping from its slicked lips. The incense and Dr. Lecter’s saliva have done its work. Even as it presses its hands against Francis’s grip, it arches its back, curls its toes, shudders at the feel of something warm and alive pressed to its skin. 

Francis uses two fingers to spread its thighs, the rough scales on the backs of his claws scraping at the tender flesh there. It sobs, tears glittering on its cheeks as Francis’s prehensile sex probes at its hole, dripping with blackish, bluish goo.

“No— _please—”_

The pet makes a punched-out, high-pitched whine as it slips inside, the slippery, thick muscle of Francis’s first cock stretching it far too quick for comfortable adjustment.

It is so small. So helpless and delicate. It’s as though pets were designed to be luxury, like porcelain dolls or gauzy silk screens. What useless, frivolous creatures. Its tears are like budding jewels, and Francis’s mouth waters, saliva dripping from between his jaws.

He spends some time like that, watching the bulge in its belly move as he massages the pet’s insides. Playing with it. He presses up with his cock, and the pet’s stomach distends, smooth skin stretching tight, and its eyes roll back in its head. The pet writhes, biting on its knuckles as its thighs tense and shudder, tiny cock dripping and leaking. Francis only needs to use the one hand to drag it up and down his cock, the pet’s hole clinging on the way up and giving on the way down. It fits like a glove, body forced to mold itself around Francis’s shape. Then he flexes his cock as it threads through the pet’s digestive tract, slicking it up. The pet’s body clenches and jerks around it as it comes.

A slave to their bodies, humans.

Dr. Lecter reaches up to thread his fingers through its hair, cooing at it.

“That’s right. Just like that. That wasn’t so bad, was it, Will?”

It whimpers and turns its head away.

Dr. Lecter tuts sympathetically, stroking its cheek gently. “No, dear. You need to do a little more than just lie there. Our customer made you feel nice, yes? Now it’s your turn. It’s only polite.”

Francis lays the thing down and shuffles up until his cock is tracing the pet’s lips. It squeezes its eyes shut, nostrils flaring as it cringes away. Dr. Lecter squeezes its jaw firmly until it opens, and then Francis is shoving the tentacle into the warmth of its throat. It begins to hyperventilate, breathing harshly through its nose as best as it can, throat convulsing around Francis as it travels downwards, into the pet’s stomach. The pet reaches up with its hands, pressing against the corded muscle in Francis’s thighs.

“It’s all right,” Dr. Lecter coos, licking away more of its tears. “Everything will be all right. I’m here to watch over you.”

The pet presses as hard as it can at Francis’s thighs, trying to push him away. Francis can barely feel it. But then it waves its arms blindly, and makes a startled noise as its hand brushes Francis’s dripping vagina. Francis groans, fucking its throat harder.

“If you’re very good,” Dr. Lecter says, “I’ll make sure you only get the nice customers. How about that, Will?”

Where the pet’s fingers have parted his lips, they touch teeth. Its fingers run around the edges of the fangs, where the bone protrudes from flesh, and Francis has to hold back from opening up and snapping down on it. Dr. Lecter doesn’t like it when his pets get permanently damaged.

“You must pleasure him, Will,” Dr. Lecter is whispering in its ear, petting over the bulge in its throat. “It’s your job now. Be a good pet. Things will be easier.”

The pet’s hands tremble as they continue to stroke over Francis’s teeth, skirting sensitive points with the inaccuracy of inexperience. Finally, its hands brush over his clit. He jerks forward and growls and the pet freezes, afraid.

“Do that again,” Dr. Lecter instructs.

So it does, rubbing carefully over the sensitive flesh with the heel of its palm, eyes watering as its throat is battered. Francis comes straight into its stomach, entire body hunched over and taut with pleasure.

He slips his cock free, leaving the pet’s throat wrecked as it wheezes hoarsely.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

The pet looks up at Dr. Lecter, lips parted and shiny with goo and drool. It looks like it might be relieved, but Francis doubts it. Even a pet can’t be stupid enough to think it’s over, could it?

“This next part will be a bit harder, but I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Dr. Lecter reassures, and the pet moans raggedly, shaking its head.

Francis grinds down, rubbing his vagina over its soft human skin. It gasps and arches under him as the teeth scrape and pierce its chest, suckling harshly and releasing venom into its system. Its muscles go lax, the pained edge on its face disappears. An analgesic, and a muscle relaxant. It will help, with what comes later.

For now, though, Francis simply grinds down on the pet’s body, vagina making loud, wet, sucking noises at leaves large bruises on the pet’s delicate skin. There’s something deeply satisfying about leaving marks like this, hickies the size of the pet’s palm making their way down its torso, studded with little pinpricks from where Francis’s teeth pierced skin and injected his venom. Dr. Lecter rubs a thumb over one of the pet’s nipples, already sensitive from being suckled on and skin tacky with Francis’s fluids. It twitches, then hiccups.

“Can’t. No more,” it croaks.

“You mustn’t doubt yourself so much, my dear,” Dr. Lecter says. “You took me very well, didn’t you? And the training toys. This isn’t so different. Francis is simply…”

He trails off, and Francis’s second cock nudges between the pet’s thighs. It is still slick and open from his first cock, and the muscles are relaxed from his venom. It’s still difficult pushing in the tip, which tapers, but not impossible.

“…a bit larger,” Dr. Lecter concedes.

The pet blinks blearily, then lifts its head to look down.

Francis pushes in to the root, the bumpy ridges that line his cock rubbing against the pet’s inner walls. The tip of his cock extends to the bottom of the pet’s ribs, punching the air out of it. Its stomach bulges as he moves. Francis’s cock is about the thickness of its calf, his knot about that of its thigh. As he thrusts, blood leaks from its hole. When this is over, it will be torn from ass to cock. Francis knows this because he has done this many times before. Dr. Lecter is an excellent pet doctor, however.

It takes a moment for the pet to connect what it’s seeing with what’s happening to its body, given that the venom prevents it from feeling pain. It tries to speak, but find it can’t as Francis’s cock punches its diaphragm.

“Nnngh…Hmnnng!”

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Lecter assures it. “It will feel good, soon.”

And this time, Dr. Lecter sinks his fangs into its neck, right over the jugular. The pet gasps as its system is flooded with more aphrodisiacs. With the combination of the incense, Dr. Lecter’s saliva and venom, and Francis’s venom, it is completely addled. Reduced to a bundle of nerves. A simple thing that reacts to touch. Its only purpose reduced to feeling and giving pleasure. The most efficient use of humans’ capabilities.

Francis feels the Dragon curl down his spine, unfurl. A low rumble starts in his chest, and he begins to thrust faster. His grip is tight, bruising. The pet cannot breathe like this, but that doesn’t matter to it. It reacts to his every touch with a twist of its hips, a clench of its muscles.

His knot begins to swell, and Francis begins to see red. Everything around him disappears except the warmth surrounding his cock, the smell of blood. With one final thrust he forces his knot in, tearing the pet open. His hand clenches reflexively, and he feels the pet’s ribs crackles as they give under his grip. It makes a quiet, choked noise, and comes again.

The animal triumph of laying claim to something else this way surges through Francis. The Dragon is pleased, and continues to rumble contentedly. Dr. Lecter lays a hand on the pet’s stomach, which quickly begins to swell even more as Francis’s cum spills into it.

“Well done, Will,” he purrs.

Francis grunts, clenches, and another wave of cum comes forth. Dr. Lecter presses down on the pet’s belly, murmuring softly. The pet coughs and hot cum spurts up its throat and out its mouth. The sight of it is almost enough for Francis to come again.

The cough jars its insides and it inhales sharply, which makes it begin to cough again. Its eyes are wide with terror, the whites gleaming under the low lighting specifically selected by Dr. Lecter for its quiet ambience. Then it begins to convulse, limbs jerking. A seizure, maybe? It doesn’t matter, except that it feels magnificent around Francis’s cock. It lasts for about a minute before the pet collapses, pale and exhausted.

“Magnificent,” Dr. Lecter sighs.

The pet’s legs fall to the floor with a wet slap as Francis tugs his knot out. Some of its insides just barely spill out of the wide, gaping hole. It smells foul, like piss and shit, and a puddle of blood begins to form.

“Don’t worry about the damage,” Dr. Lecter assures it. “I will have you fixed up in no time, so you can service more of our customers soon.”

The pet just stares at him numbly. It opens and closes its mouth, as though trying to speak, but it takes all its effort to just keep its tired, rattled breaths going.

Francis’s cocks begin to recede back into his body. One of the café’s employees comes forth to hand him a towel, and he begins to wipe himself off.

Dr. Lecter leans closer to the pet. Its mouth shapes a painful whisper. Francis doesn’t care enough to find out what the thing could possibly want, after it was given the privilege of witnessing the glory of the Great Red Dragon. He nods to Dr. Lecter and heads out the door.

As he walks away, he hears Dr. Lecter’s voice, soft and soothing.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Will. But remember, if you’re good, I’ll give you the nice customers. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The door swings shut behind him with a tinkle.

**Author's Note:**

> 2 things:  
> 1\. i looked it up to double-check, and yes, it is in fact grammatically correct to add an 's at the end of names, even if they already end in s. so "francis's" is correct. the version where an apostrophe is added at the end with no extra s is also accepted (both are fine) but i prefer the 's version despite it looking hideous because "francis" is a singular noun, so...  
> 2\. right after posting this i learned that actually the human anus can stretch up to 7 inches, so actually, maybe will could've taken that dick without a giant hole ripping through him, but whatever. francis went too fast, okay? so it tore and then once it tore it just kept tearing. that's my explanation. ;_; just let me be horrible, pls
> 
> u can come find me on twitter, if u so wish, [@nise_kazura](https://twitter.com/nise_kazura) :>


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